The Ouran Mafia
by IHeartWritingsothere
Summary: After Haruhi gets lost in the garden of some rich bastard. After Kaoru pulls out a blow dart. After Mori makes a stunning discovery. After so many devastating secrets are reveled, and so many things go so very wrong.After all is said and done, can Haruhi find love, in captivity? Or is this just another case of Stockholm syndrome?
1. Chapter 1

The night was cool and soothing to eyes and ears. Up above almost purplish clouds rolled past, and the calm felt almost surreal. And then screaming and gunshots filled the air. A redheaded teen burst from behind a warehouse, and began firing shots at the beefy looking man following him.

The man grunted, brutally firing at the ginger, who laughed with glee, dropping back into the shadows. A second later a voice on the complete opposite side of the parking lot called out a taunt. The man spun, spluttering in confusion, but the boy was already disappearing.

The man was sweating, perspiration evident on his upper lip, soaking through his sleeves. What in the hell is going on he thought. This kid is just a kid, how is he appearing like th-

They say death is silent. But the faint sound of a gunshot and the whoosh off life escaping a body could be heard . The man's body hit the floor. From either side of the parking lot, **_two_**teens emerged, smirking at each other. Point 589, Hikaru and Kaoru.

Where are they? Tamaki thought, peering at his gold encrusted watch. Had they stopped to get ice cream on the way back from there _assassination mission_? Sometimes he swore, if he didn't like 'em so much, they'd be dead. Or would they? There was no arguing that Tamaki was the best, and most eccentric, criminal the world had ever known. But those twins were sneaky, and the best con artists you'd ever had the misfortune to meet. Outside the mansion walls, he heard a car pull up. Finally.

Honey was wolfing down cake like there was no tomorrow. Kyoya gave him a disapproving look, and Honey sent him the evil eye. He sighed, and rubbed at his glasses, careful to keep his expression neutral. They were rich people, but no amount of thievery could keep up with the boy's cake obsession.

Tamaki was chatting non stop across the table, about how he wanted a new door in the west wing library, to replace the one they'd broken down go kart racing last week . More bills. He checked his pocket watch. He really should be getting to sleep. Ah well.

Kyoya reached down, and elegantly moved his rook. "Your turn." Tamaki abruptly stopped talking, and reached out to study the board intently. Kyoya was sometimes impressed by the controlled killer inside of Tamaki, and inside of himself. He was afraid he'd look in the mirror one day, and his eyes would be blood, hate, and pain. Nothing more. They day when he could no longer recognize himself, was the day he truly became a monster.

Tamaki moved his piece, and the clocked ticked, again, and again, and again. Being a mafia boss tended to get boring, when you weren't on a job. Mori who had been playing cards with Hikaru, suddenly stopped, tilted his head, and then went to the window, peering out into the dark garden.

"What is it Mori sempai?" Tamaki asked, concerned. Mori turned, and met his stare, looking surprised. "Intruder."

"Damn rich bastards, and their fancy houses!" Haruhi muttered, viciouslykicking branches out of her way, and crushing flowers under foot. It was freezing, and she was shivering. She'd forgotten a coat, and she thought her toes might freeze off. All she wanted was to get out of this stupid garden, and go back home. But she was lost, dammit!

She thought she heard a snicker from behind her, and whirled. Nothing. Frowning, she sneezed, which turned into a violent cough. Rubbing her arms she muttered "Imagining things, never, a good sign."

But paranoia had seeped into her bones just as surely as the cold had, and she couldn't resist peeking around, as she walked. She felt numb, and cold, and her toes were burning. She began to run, ignoring her stomach,which was churning. And then a sharp sting in her left shoulder made her stumble to a halt. Ouch.

Suddenly, laughing filled the air. Her head spin, and she felt sick. Then the world did a sickening spin, and she blackout. Somewhere in unconsciousness, she could hear two identical laughs…

The twins crept along the, their feet not making a sound. Their victim was different. Loud and painting, the figure stumbled from around warily. The brothers traded looks. Surely no one would send such and amateur. To Ouran, of all places.

Kaoru scoffed. He'd learned early on to never underestimate your opponent, but it was hard not to underestimate, this short, cranky man. He reached in his pocket for a gun, but remembered what Tamaki had said. "No boys, we just want to capture him, not kill him. Yet." He sighed, reached in his other pocket and pulled out a dart gun instead.

Hikaru nodded to his brother, and they both snickered. They watched the man, spin, darkness still covering his face, and he muttered something to himself, before turning back around. Kaoru blew, and the boy hit the floor. They walked forward to grab the body, but were shocked at what they saw.

It was a young, fair skinned boy, with creamy skin, and large brown eyes, staring blankly at them. His body was small, and fragile. Hikaru and Kaoru however weren't surprised by that. They'd seen kids as young as six working in the mafia business. Some of their closest friends had been mobsters ever since they beat kids up and stole things in first grade. The boy's lips were blue from cold, and his head had smashed a rock, and was gashed.

Kaoru and Hikaru exchanged look, they'd seen people in way worse condition, mostly caused, intentionally, by themselves. But something about this boy was different, almost as if they cared. Simultaneously, they rolled their eyes, dismissed the thought, then carelessly hefted up the boy.


	2. Chapter 2

Haruhi's mother, when she was alive, had once told Haruhi that there's was nothing a woman couldn't handle. But waking up, tied up in a dark room was pushing it a bit. Her whole body felt, numb, and like jello. She strained, her eyes, but could not see anything. So she closed her eyes again, and slept.

She woke again, and it was still dark. The numbness had faded, and was replaced with a stinging pain where the ropes had dug in her skin. She could feel the welt on her back from the dark, and her head spun, as she struggled to her knees.

As her eyes began to adjust to the light, she almost puked. She was in prison! It was a small, dark cell, made of steel. She was lying on a ratty blanket, and she almost laughed at her captor's twisted sense of charity. She twisted her arms painfully, biting back a scream as the ropes dug into her already bloody wrists.

She managed to grasp the pocket knife she always kept, and pulled it out. Arms still twisted painfully, she began to saw. What seemed like hours later, she _finally _got the ropes, cut. She stood shakily. Her body felt numb and strangely warm, and she felt tired, so tired. _Hypothermia _she mouthed. She knew the symptoms. She had to keep moving. She could not fall asleep; for fear that she'd never wake up again.

Coughing violently. She crawled along the wall, searching with her fingers. When she found the crack that signaled the door, she pushed herself up, and collapsed against it. She searched all the way around the door, until she found the knob, confused when it swung open, and she crept out, closing it behind her. She went slowly down the dark hallway, hands braced on either side of the hallway. She came to another door, feeling sluggish and content.

She knew there was something she was supposed to remember, but she felt so safe, and drowsy, she brushed it away. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she recognized, the lavish, expensive surroundings, and a couple of times, she bumped into a wall.

A brief flash of alarm came and went as she registered a tall, male figure coming toward her. He was pretty, she thought, giggling out loud. He stared for a moment, eyes conveying an urgent message. In a moment of lucidity, she knew he was letting her escape, than the buzzing swarmed her head and she slipped back into sleepiness.

Able to walk no longer, she stopped, an let her legs give out, collapsing onto the soft, comfy carpet. And finally, she slept.

Mori sauntered down the hallway, taking his sweet time. It had been two hours since the twins had brought in the prisoner. Tamaki, had took one look at the small, snow covered boy, than told them to put him in a cell.

He was surprised to see the very same boy stumbling down the hall. As soon as he saw the dazed goofy look on the brunette's face, and the bloody, torn wrists, his instinct told him that this child was not a spy. Just a child. A very much drugged child.

He tried to convey the message to run in his eyes, and a brief moment of understanding flashed in the boy's eyes, before haze clouded over. They both kept walking. Morinozuka hoped he would make it out without someone else stopping him.

A thud, made him turn around, and his eyes widened at the sight of the boy crumpled on the floor. He crouched next to the boy, inspecting him. It was definitely hypothermia, what his mother would have called the silent killer. He couldn't leave the boy here, because he needed to be helped, but he couldn't bring him to the others.

He pulled of his coat, and wrapped it around the boy. He'd have to ask Kyoya. Which meant the boy would owe his cunning friend. He felt bad about that, but it was either that or let him die.

"It's in relatively early stages, so he can be helped." Kyoya murmured, while checking the boy's airways. He wasn't really doing it for a particular reason. But if Morinozuka, who he considered a friend, viewed him as a trustworthy person, he might be willing to do more to help Kyoya, should he ever need it.

"He has to be warmed up slowly; we don't want to accidently stop his heart. We should take of his shirt, and dry him off, than give him dry clothes, and gradually move him closer to the fire. Morinozuka nodded, and peeled of the boy's baggy shirt, and glasses.

Kyoya raised his eyebrows, and shared a look with his companion, whose cheeks were flushed in modesty. This is an interesting development. Silently, his older friends stood, and pulled of his own shirt, wrapping the boy in it, and covering him in blankets, checking to make sure he was comfortable on the bed. He placed hot clothes on the boy's critical points, and checked his vitals, which were almost back to normal. He nodded at Mori, than left the room. He wasn't going to tell the others. Not yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Haruhi was having a bad day. First she'd gotten lost on her way home, then she'd been knocked out and woke up in a cell. Then she'd lost consciousness, again, and woken up in some strange room. It was large and warm, a soft orange tint thrown off by the blazing fire across the room. It smelt like vanilla and charred wood. She tried to sit up, but her whole body felt like mush. She collapsed back on the soft bed the various, thick ,musty smelling blankets, fell around her.

"Rest." A deep voice from across the room murmured. Startled, she whipped around best she could to see the man in the doorway, who'd spoken. He was extremely tall, fair skinned, and raven haired. Detachedly, she supposed he was handsome.

She tried to speak, but it came out wrong, garbled. He sighed, and turned to walk away. "Rest." he said again, then he disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Haruhi sighed, and began to asses her injuries. She remembered what happened now, and figured that the man in the hall was one in the same with the man from the door. Wedging her arms, which burned from the recent returning of circulation, under her, she began to wiggle.

In the most dignified manner she could managed, basically crawling and using her feet to push her, she made it off the bed, landing on the carpet, which was so thick that that the impact didn't make a sound. Then again, Haruhi's always been freakishly thin. Using the same wiggling, crawling manner, she limped to lights, flicked them off, then stumbled to the darkness. Bracing her shaking arms against the window sill, she peeked, carefully out the window.

She sighed as her suspicions were confirmed. It was the same garden she'd been in before. At least she had a relative idea of where she was. Now to call the cops. She hobbled to the bed, digging in the nightstand for any kind of map or phone number, but was disappointed, and not surprised when her search hailed no results.

She checked the door, locked. Damn. She sat back down on the bed. Guess she'd have to wait until someone came to get her , or until she had enough strength. Trying to run in this condition would be suicide. She sighed. Judging by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, she wouldn't have to wait long.

With the Hosts

"So he escaped huh?" Tamaki said. "Maybe he's not as stupid as we thought he was. He's obviously no spy, but what will we do with him, huh?" Tamaki asked, cocking his head to the side.

"How about we kill him?" The twins asked in sync. Their tones sounded the same too, bored.

"No!" Tamaki cried, sounding horrified. "Shame on you little devils! He is our guest!" Kyoya rolled his eyes and began scribbling in his notebook.

"So, we torture him then?" Kaoru asked hopefully. The look on his boss's face, and the sound of the blonde throwing a teacup was answer was enough. "That's a no." he sighed. Kyoya frowned. Probably mad "daddy" was breaking things, as he tended to do when angry, again.

"No!" Tamaki said again, propping his feet on the table, and leaning back so his ridiculous hat propped over his eyes. "He'll stay here." Somewhere else in the mansion, Haruhi Fujioka, 'he' shuddered.


End file.
